


Comatose. [AU]

by orphan_account



Category: Joe Keery - Fandom, celebrity - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Sappy, Short Drabble, imagine, joe keery is a writer, joe keery is an artist, joe keery x reader, joe keery x you, minor angst I guess?, sleepy joe keery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Joe is a starving artist and you’re his serenity.





	Comatose. [AU]

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my tumblr, don't sue.

It was inspiration in the form of stacked paper, ink stains, and empty mugs. Restlessness was proven when he could no longer keep his eyes open to blacken his midnight sketches.

Your hand, light and unsure, touched his nape and he flinched.

“Hon’,” your voice vibrated softly, in such a way that it seemed it was fighting to be heard yet all the while afraid to get caught. Joe knew this voice too well and fell into it’s amenity. Inspiration would have to wait, your voice acting as a sort of reminder that sleep and hunger are very important things.

So he gave in.

He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, resting his head on your abdomen and hummed in reply.

You smelled of his favorite shampoo and moisturizer with just a hint of bedtime coffee. You smelled of home. Portable by ease and your eager need to be in all places at once, you were his home– wherever that may be when he’s with you.

“Coming to bed?”

He had already accepted his body’s offer to drift to sleep again, had already let the lamp on his work desk cast a relaxing apricot-color over his closed lids. Moving from your warmth to a cold futon was not tempting so in a small form of defiance, he didn’t give you an answer. A part of him knew you didn’t expect him to.

Your shared apartment was small and his work space even smaller. Joe wanted a big house for the two of you; maybe a garden, a dog if not a kid. Joe felt selfish, keeping you here in a one room loft. But you were beyond benevolent; standing at his desk at three in the morning, running your fingers through his thick hair because he spewed silent desires that only you seemed to understand.

He thought of this now even while his mind remained torpid and comatose.

He acknowledged it. But still, he was selfish, pressing his lips into the cloth of your worn t-shirt where he’d stay for a few more minutes. Your loyalty proved strong for you didn’t move from his possession, but solely accepted it. Much like you had his lifestyle and hand in marriage.


End file.
